Eragon as told by moi
by Demon of the Ink
Summary: Righto, I'm back and bored as ever. I'm rewriting Eragon with a few changes, just because it's something to do and I need to channel my sarcastic energy somewhere. Hope you like it! Chapter 4 is UP!
1. The Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't Eragon, Eldest, or any of the characters. I don't own any of the Eragon paraphernalia or the like. I don't really want to own any of it, either.

Dear Reader:

I present you with my version of how the Eragon prologue should have gone. Though it is short I am rather more fond of my version, not because I think I'm a decent writer but more because I consider hIS prologue rather weird, purple prosey, and annoyingly inept at characterizing anything.

Cheers,

The Demon of the Ink

Prologue:

Arya shuddered as the chill night air touched the back of her neck, with a shake of her head she shifted her dark black hair over the open skin. She halted her horse and allowed her two escorts to do the same, then surveyed the area before her. Her eyes squinted in attempts to break the darkness.

"Is something wrong?" One of her companions asked.

Arya frowned but shook her head. "Nothing, just some cold wind." With a shake of the reigns her horse began to trot forward.

In the bushes, the shade Durza could not help but smile. _Excellent_ He thought. _Even the great elf cannot detect me…_ He signaled to the urgals in the surrounding shrubs. In the lightest whisper he could muster he breathed, "I want the egg, bring it to me unharmed or it will be your heads. Kill the elves if you must."

The elves continued on the path, the female turned her head and looked behind her.

_What was that?_ Arya thought she had heard a voice in the bushes. Using magic she created an orb of light and sent it to where she thought the source was. Instantly a gruesome face became visible.

"Urgal!" She screamed to her cohorts. In a flash the two were on the ground, ready to fight.

There cover blown the monsters immediately attacked.

"Arya, get out of here! Protect the egg!" One of her companions screamed. He summoned up a gout of fire to burn the nearest urgal to cinders. "Run!"

Arya nodded, and kicked her horse into a hard trot. She could feel the cold touches of shock trying to immobilize her. She had known to expect an attack, but not one this large.

For a moment it seemed Arya had escaped, but then a nightmare appeared.

"Going somewhere?" The first thing she saw was the blood-red hair, but then she was drawn into the wicked eyes. The shade was white as death, but the dead did not command enough magical energy to turn an army to dust.

Arya halted her horse and leapt to the ground. It was just in time, the shade loosed a bolt of magical energy that reduced the whinnying animal to ashes.

Arya looked at her steed's remains and felt bile rise in her throat. Slaying an innocent animal was so undeniably cruel, so pointless.

Durza turned his eyes on the fair elf's face. "O dear, now that is a pity." He said with a sneer. "If I had known it would die I would have made it more painful."

In a fit of rage Arya unleashed her own attack. Durza laughed as the energy struck his breast, within seconds the power dissipated.

"Durza." Arya breathed. "What do you want?"

The shade smiled. "First that pathetic display of magic, and now this stupidity? My my, maybe you elves can't die, but you certainly can become senile."

Ignoring this barb Arya continued. "You will not get the egg."

Durza grinned again. "Really?" With a snap of his fingers an elf appeared. He was bound and bloodied, Arya gasped as she recognized that face she had adored so long. Durza looked at her with another grin an got to his knees, running a finger down his captive's face.

"So even if I do this," With these words he dug his nail into the skin of the elf, causing him to gasp in pain. "or this," The wound ignited and the skin began to blister. "you won't give me that little egg?"

Arya felt sick as she watched her love suffer. The fire had begun to spread along his face, the flames licking his perfect features. Durza watched with a sadistic smile.

"Give me the egg, and I will let him go." The shade offered.

Arya closed her eyes. "No." She sighed.

"Your choice." The wicked magician shrugged. "I was feeling hungry for some meat anyway."

The fire began to spread over the elf's entire body; Arya could hear the sickening cracks and pops of his skin as it melted underneath the magical fire.

"You know pain supposedly makes the meat hard." Durza said conversationally. "But I like my meals rough."

With another snap of his fingers the gag that had been stuffed in the prisoner's mouth vanished. Immediately the night was pierced by the soldier's scream. Arya felt hot tears flow down her face as she watched her friend blacken with the fire's caress. Finally the elf died and the darkness was quiet once more.

"Took long enough." Durza said with that same indifference. "I guess I'll save him for later. Elf meat is good for the bones."

The corpse vanished and Durza looked again at Arya, she was too horrified to even contemplate escape.

"I guess you care more about some unborn dragon then your dear friend." The shade muttered. "No matter. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, that you would save your fried rather then let him die so painfully, but I suppose more fire is always a good thing."

With these words the woods around the pair burst alight with crackling flame. The forest creatures cried as their homes were reduced to cinders, as their young were killed by the magician's spell. Durza laughed.

"No running little elf. No escaping."

These words snapped Arya back to reality. The visions of her incinerated compainion were still etched into her mind, but she would at least prevent the demon before her from obtaining what he so desired.

"I can't run." Arya said darkly. "But I don't have to."

The shade frowned, "Not even you are stupid enough to attempt that…"

For the first time that night Arya smiled. "Really?" And with the spell completed she thrust the egg into the sky where white light consumed it, taking it to a location unknown to even Arya herself.


	2. Chapter Uno

Disclaimer: Same as before. I don't own Eragon or anything related stuff. I don't want to.

Dear Reader,

Well, well, we are starting to get into the fun here. I didn't expect people to actually like my writing, I was just sick and delusional and hopelessly bored… Well, thank you four reviewers for you I will take up my ghastly pen (meaning type out some more words) and continue my mockery of writing! But before we begin you should know I have certain…distaste for Eragon, and an all out hatred for Eldest. Of course I'm not entirely sane, so I read them anyway… My point being I don't know the things inside and out, so I apologize if I get something wrong – I'll do my best.

-Le Demon de l'Encre

P.S. I may get bored with the old characters and introduce a few of my own. You've been warned.

Chapter Uno

The deer was standing silently a mere couple feet in front of Eragon. He wet his lips and drew back the bow, his arm's muscles straining to pull back the sinew stretched across the wood's sides.

_Easy does it._ Eragon thought. _We need this meat._ A drop of sweat fell from his brow and hit the earthy floor beneath him. Licking his lips gently Eragon checked his aim for the second time.

_Now! _He screamed mentally. At that moment a blue-white light emanated from above the deer, and instantly the beast ran. Eragon stepped backwards in fear as the blazing light continued, then subsided in a mere moment. The arrow had fallen to the ground before him, forgotten in the action.

"What?" Eragon breathed. A oval blue stone had been placed where the deer had occupied moments before. Eragon felt the tickle of fear itch his mind, but he had never been one to back down from a mystery. He approached the object carefully, treating it as though it would explode – for all he knew, it might.

Upon closer examination the rock seemed harmless enough. It was a brilliant sapphire color, and reflected the morning light so well Eragon thought it must have been coated in some sort glass.

Eragon selected a stick from the ground and prodded the rock gently. Nothing happened.

He poked it again, nothing happened.

Eragon bit his lip. The object didn't _seem_ dangerous, but it _had_ appeared in a whirlwind of light – something most things did not tend to do. But his family needed _something_ for his efforts this morning, even if it was some weird stone they could sell at today's market. Closing his eyes, Eragon snatched the egg and held it away from him.

After satisfied it would not blow up, Eragon brushed a piece of dark brown hair from his eyes and walked back to his uncle's home.

"Eragon!" This was the word that greeted the teenager as he stepped over the threshold of his house.

Eragon's cousin stepped out from the kitchen. "You moron! What the hell were you doing in the Spine without telling anyone?"

Eragon smiled despite himself. "Easy Roran. I was going hunting, we do need something to eat."

Roran shook his head, treating Eragon to a vision not unlike a black-haired dog dislodging water from itself. "Moron." He said again. "We have enough food for now."

Ignoring this Eragon barged past his cousin into the kitchen, slightly hindered by the fact Roran was larger then him. While Eragon might have been braver then Roran, Roran was most definitely stronger.

From the kitchen came sounds of breakfast being prepared. Eragon's uncle – Roran's father – Garrow was hunched over a stove.

"Been out in the Spine have you?" The man said without looking behind him. Over his shoulder Eragon could see the Spine through the window; the mountains always seemed ominously dark and quiet. Not anyone would enter those woods alone, or indeed at all.

"Yeah." Eragon took a seat at the stone table and waited patiently for Garrow to turn away from his cooking. After and entire minute of silence Garrow spun to face him. "I've told you a million times not to go into those woods without permission. I don't want to loose you."

Eragon felt a touch of shame edge up his back. Garrow was too good to him; often the boy wondered what he did to deserve such love. Then again, Garrow wasn't so much of an uncle as a father. Eragon never knew his father, and the only thing he knew about his mother was that she had left him here, as a baby, to be raised by Garrow.

"I'm sorry." Eragon murmured. He really did need to work on not being so hot-headed.

Garrow frowned once more and turned back to the stove. Eager to change the subject Eragon asked what they had to do for work today.

"Nothing much. Weed the herb garden, check the crops, go to the market. The usual." Garrow said.

"Except you, dear cousin, must also feed the horses. You've forgotten to do it. Again." Roran had entered so quietly Eragon had not heard him.

"It's your turn." Eragon said automatically, having only heard the part about feeding and nothing else.

"It would be should you have not forgotten." Roran repeated. "Though I suppose I should thank you dearly for forgetting, now I can spend time otherwise with barnyard animals with Katrina."

"So you've told her you loved her?" Eragon asked.

"Not exactly. Sloan might not be so keen on that." Roran said. He took one of the plate Garrow offered and stacked scrambled eggs on it. "I'm just going to court her a bit, see if I can make Sloan not as reluctant."

Eragon snorted. The idea of Sloan being nice wasn't so much of a hope as an impossibility. _Still_ He thought _At least with Roran out of the way I can try and sell this egg._

The three ate their meal in silence. Roran was off in Katrina-land, Garrow thinking the slow mature thoughts of an adult and Eragon, Eragon thought of a blue stone…and how much cash he might get for it.

_Fin _

Of chapter one of course. If it catches my fancy I may keep writing. Now, in my demonic arrogance allow me to point out a few things I added.

I managed to portray Eragon's general look, a bit more then the "intense eyebrows" and "dark eyes" we had to work with before.

OMG!!! Personality? Fear? What is the alien emotion we see in these beloved characters?

I have conquered my inordinate fear of the word "said" and ridded us of the trillions about trillions of painfully unnecessary adjectives.

Well, that is what the Demon has to say. And yes, thank you for pointing out I'm a vindictive psychopath. I like writing, that is why I continue to write this fanfiction. Why don't I write about something I like? I do! I have written an entire book of not-fanfiction! But now I'm bored and my fifteen-year-old mind needs something to do…

Au revoir for now,

The Demon of the Ink.

P.S. Will someone please flame me?! I find it rather refreshing.


	3. Chapter Deux

Disclaimer: I'm over this whole process…I don't own anything…don't sue me…ect.

Dear Reader,

I'm running out of things to moan about… Due to my horrid memory I have little idea what actually happened here…I'll just improvise something.

-The Demon of the Ink

P.S. I'm going to introduce one of my own characters now. Just for fun.

"How shall I portray this nicely?" Eragon was standing in front of a merchant who had rapidly become his least favorite person in the world. Everything down to his condescending voice made Eragon shudder with irritation. "No, I don't want your ruddy rock."

"But it's!" Eragon began to protest for what felt like the thousandth time, the black-haired merchant shook his head.

"It's blue, it's big, and it's definitely not my thing. I'm not really on to the whole 'ride'-" The merchant stopped talking at once, to Eragon it seemed he felt he had said to much. The conceited kid didn't even look older then Eragon, perhaps a bit taller but nothing else!

"I don't do rocks." The merchant completed. "Now go away or buy something." Turning his back on Eragon the boy shook with rage and took his stone away from the cart. No one seemed interested in the blue stone. Eragon looked it over again and sighed, he hadn't dared tell anyone it had appeared in a blast of magical light – it might alienate them further from buying the stupid thing.

Roran had vanished long ago to buy some "meat" (aka flirt with Katrina more) while Garrow was examining shovels a few carts over. Eragon sighed again and began to walk away from the cart when a yell behind him made him turn. The black-haired teenager was back.

"Don't sell the rock." He said. "It is more important then you might think." With that he stalked off back to his makeshift shop.

Eragon ignored the advice. His family needed some more money, they had enough to live for now, but surviving the winter with so little was out of the question.

He began to wander slowly away from the stalls towards the main part of town. He hoped that maybe the blacksmith Horst or even the butcher Sloan might be interested in a rock. He realized he was a moron for even hoping so…the thing was neither meat nor metal, nothing either profession would find remotely helpful.

Eragon would reserve judgment of what to do until later, for now he needed something to cheer him up. With a heavy heart he began to trek to the tavern on the other side of town.

"Hey! HEY!"

_O great…_ Eragon thought as the drunken figure of Jackle stumbled towards him. Not that drunken stumbling was anything new for Jackle, the man seemed to be in a constant state of intoxication.

"Eragonnn…" The man said, slurring his words so dreadfully it took Eragon a moment to realize it was his name being said. "Wasya got there?"

Eragon realized that Jackle was referring to the rock. "Nothing but a stone… Can I help you Jackle?"

Jackle blinked stupidly. "Wasya gots a rock for?"

"I found it and wanted to sell it. _Can I help you?_"

"Do you has cash?"

Eragon felt some of his gold pushing against his leg through his pocket. "No." He lied serenely.

"Mmmk." Jackle stumbled away back into the tavern. Glad he had dodged a bullet, Eragon wandered further inside.

The old story-teller Brom sat comfortably in his corner speaking to a few of the younger children whose parents were to lazy or drunk to care for them themselves, thus they left their kids with Brom; his stories were often hypnotic to such small minds as the children.

Today, however, something Brom said caught Eragon's ear.

"The dragons were enormous creatures!" He said in a dramatic whisper to the wide-eyed, young listeners before him. "Big enough for a full grown man to ride upon them! The war between the elves and the mighty beasts raged for what felt like forever, then one day a noble elf ended the conflict!"

"How!?" A young kid piped up excitedly.

"He found an egg, and he raised the dragon that came from it. And thus, the war ended and the dragon riders were born!" Brom finished. "Now, you little spiders have wasted enough of an old man's time. Go find your parents and tell them to feed you." He waved his hands as though annoyed with the multitude of kids, all of them skipped off giggling.

Eragon who had, despite himself, been listening to the last part of this story approached the story-teller. Brom grinned as he saw Eragon approaching.

"Well, it seems that an old spider has come back to visit."

Eragon grinned as he remembered the many stories he used to listen to with Roran when he was a kid. Garrow would leave them in Brom's care as the farmer went to shop, though lately Eragon hadn't been able to visit Brom in quite awhile.

"I was listening to your story." He said.

"That's a surprise." Brom said sarcastically. "Never could get you to _stop_ listening. Garrow nearly had to knock you out whenever he came to fetch you and your cousin."

"You know I couldn't resist anything about the dragon-riders." Eragon said.

Brom nodded. "I did know. What is that you got there?" He gestured towards the partially concealed egg beneath Eragon had been holding behind him.

"Nothing but a stone." Eragon took out the rock and held it out for Brom to examine. "Something wrong?" Brom had suddenly seemed as though he was on the verge of collapsing. His eyes had gone wide and his face pale.

"O, nothing." He croaked. "Perhaps some bad ale." He held his stomach unconvincingly and squeaked. "Where did you get that?"

"The Spine." Eragon answered easily. "I'm trying to sell it but so far all the vendors didn't want it. One of them even told me not to sell it; said it might be important."

Brom's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Really? What did this man look like?"

"Teenager, about my age, black hair and tall with weird blue eyes." Eragon said. "Wait, I didn't say he was a he…"

"Never mind that. I have to go now." Brom had shot up with a speed not normally possessed by the average man. "See you later kid!" He began to run off, but Eragon managed to catch a muttered "He's back? How's that even possible?"


	4. Chapter Drei

Disclaimah – I don't own Eragons or octagons or even dodecagons – but the first one is the one that will keep me from being sued so…

Disclaimah – I don't own Eragons or octagons or even dodecagons – but the first one is the one that will keep me from being sued so….

I'm back! After a year or something during which I took a sabbatical to focus on my writing I finally came down with a mildly painful rash. So I'm going to continue my ranting…………

Anyway, I don't _really _know what happens next but I'll just, you know, guess…

-Le Demon of the Ink

Chapter Three

No one had bought it. Eragon was laying stomach down on his bed staring at the stupid thing. No one had bought it. Useless. He risked his life in the Spine just so he could get a stupid blue rock that was about as interesting as a chair.

He picked it up and put it on the table next to his bed, then rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. By a stroke of pure luck he had gotten out of work for a little while. Roran was still frolicking with Katrina, and Garrow had figured it wouldn't be fair to make Eragon work alone. He and his cousin would just end up doing it later then usual.

Eragon's mind wandered around as his eyes fixed themselves on the hole in the roof he'd been meaning to prepare for about a week now. Why had Brom acted so odd when Eragon had mentioned the merchant? On the subject of the merchant, who the heck was he and why did he tell Eragon not to sell the rock?

The boy turned his head to look at the stone. Maybe it was more interesting then a chair. Or maybe the merchant kid was just messing with him, either way it didn't really matter. Eragon _needed _to sell the egg. His family needed something to buy supplies with, something with which to feed him. Eragon needed to pay, in some way, Garrow back for everything the man had done.

Eragon was just contemplating who he could sucker into the buying the rock when his eyes played a trick on him. The stone moved.

Eragon blinked. The stone did nothing.

_I guess I shouldn't be surprised… _He thought tiredly _It _did _appear out of a blast of white light. _

Eragon was hungry. They didn't have much to eat tonight though, just some bread because Eragon had failed to hunt this morning. Instead he placed all his eggs in one basket with the stupid rock, scratch that, the stupid _jumping_ rock. Eragon was sick and tired of this happening, of him failing to get food for his family – the family he had imposed himself upon.

Rage consumed him, the boy seized the egg with the intent to break it when it twitched. He felt it twitch, there was no mistaking it. It _was _a magical rock. Carefully, Eragon placed his ear to the stone.

_Scratch, scratch. _

It was an egg. There was no other explanation for it. Eragon was holding an _egg_. The anger faded to be replaced by excitement. What was in it? Could it be sold? Maybe that's what the merchant meant, maybe instead of trying to screw Eragon over he was actually attempting to help the kid!

Eragon's excited thoughts were interrupted by a cracking noise. It was hatching. The boy put the egg quickly onto the bed and backed up, giving it space. A spiderweb of cracks was spreading across the surface, Eragon could quite clearly hear some sort of squeaking and grunting.

Anticipation growing, Eragon stepped closer to his bed. It was chipping its way out now. Eragon could see a flash of scales. Some sort of reptile, then. But what reptile appeared out of blasts of magical light?

There was only one creature Eragon knew would be secret and valued enough to be able to appear like that.

The egg finished opening. On Eragon's bed was a dragon. It was blue.

Eragon didn't think he'd be selling anything anymore.

Dah mon! Anyway that's all I have in me for now. Review or whatever, actually just review, don't whatever. I _kinda _drew out the scene because it's fairly important with, you know, one of the most important characters making their appearance. You will also noticed that Eragon is no longer a complete idiot, just a slight idiot, yay for idiocy! Anyway, that's all I can be sarcastic about for now.

With arrogant love, or loving arrogance,

-The Demon of the Ink


	5. Chapter Cinqo

Disclaimer: If I owned the world, then a lot of issues wouldn't exist and approximately 300 more would

Disclaimer: If I owned the world, then a lot of issues wouldn't exist and approximately 300 more would! If I owed Eragon, I would be rich! I'm not rich, I don't own the world, I don't own Eragon and, please o please, DON'T SUE ME!!

Hola amigos! (if I may call you that). I'm back and filled with the vigor of youth and the feeling of slowly losing it. This time I've come down with a mildly unpleasant affliction that involves remedies from a pharmacy…meaning I'm stuck at home! YAY! Anyway…I'm back and I'm ready to write write write. In our last chapter, Saphira (shh, she doesn't know her name yet) played jack-in-the-box and kicked the plot into first gear!

So let's continue down our happy road, and sing a song of joy, I'm really glad you're reading this, because I'm a bored and teenaged boy!

-The Demon of the Ink

It squeaked.

Eragon felt his heart, which had been on hiatus, start up again at the sound. Around him the world started moving. Time started passing. The dragon had squeaked.

"Hi," the boy extended his hand out toward the dragon, who looked at it with its head cocked. "I'm Era-"

The dragon touched him, and his hand was suffering from pain like he'd never felt. A line of fire extended from the point of contact and tore an angry line across his skin. Eragon bit his lip to prevent from crying out. And then it was over.

The burn was in an unmistakable spiral. Eragon, breathing heavily, glanced at the dragon in fear. He backed across the room, swallowing. Was the small thing aware that one of Eragon's own race had been responsible for the genocide of the dragon species? Was it looking for revenge?

It squeaked again.

The creature looked so helpless. Its wings folded and coated in wetness from the inside of the egg. The curious gleam of a baby twinkling in its eye. Eragon's mind wandered to what sort of gender it was, and he realized he knowledge of dragon anatomy was quite useless for the task of positive identification. He defaulted to a 'him'.

"Please don't hurt me, guy." The boy cautiously approached. One side of him was burning with joy. Maybe this was the adventure he had been desiring for so long! The other side of him was busy cursing at him for thinking a farm boy was any where capable of raising a dragon. Even if the farm boy was admittedly talented at hunting.

Eragon closed his eyes and extended a close fist toward the dragon, as he would when he was greeting a strange dog. The baby cocked his head and extend it's serpentine neck out to nip him lightly on the knuckle.

"That's a good boy," Eragon said pleasantly.

It bit harder with a squeak. Eragon cursed and withdrew his hand. There was a bead of blood. He hoped dragons weren't poisonous.

"Ouch," Eragon said. "Bad dragon!"

He gave a huff and sat on his bed, some distance from the little creature. It crawled over and made itself comfortable on Eragon's lap. The boy looked down at it.

Truly, the dragon was beautiful. The dark blue scales reflected light in a ripple pattern that made Eragon think of the sea. The creature's eyes, so human-like, were a light blue. It's tail, very similar to that of a lizard, was in the air undulating as the head rested on Eragon's thigh.

Soon, the dragon was asleep. And soon, Eragon realized, he was going to have to find a hiding place for it.

And so he did. For the first month Eragon kept the dragon hidden in his room. Roran never went in there, claiming it smelled bad, and Garrow respected his privacy. But then the dragon suddenly started to grow.

Eragon realized, once the creature was approximately the size of a small cow, that the dragon was going to have to move outside. He had heard, from the tales Brom had been telling, that dragons could roost in trees. He hoped this was true, because then the situation would become a lot easier. So one day, when Garrow was farming on a more distant field and while Roran was chasing after Katrina, Eragon smuggled the dragon out.

"Come on!" Eragon said in an urgent whisper.

_No_ It returned. The dragon had, on its second week, developed suddenly a form of telepathic communication. The expanse of it's language, however, was similar to that of a human two-year-old.

"Get out here!"

The two were now in the barn. Eragon had used that exit in order to avoid walking past the field where Garrow would be working. The dragon was refusing to leave the shade. This was bad, and his presence was making the hens very uncomfortable.

_Food._

"You can have food later! Come _on_!"

_Bird. _

"Those chickens cost us a fortune," Eragon lied. He felt defensive about his uncle's poor birds. "You can catch something in the woods."

_Fly? _

"Yes, fly." The dragon had also started flapping around Eragon's room when he wasn't looking.

_Come. _The dragon waddled out of the door, looking very self-satisfied. Eragon quickly led it to the forest line. The two walked for a short while and emerged in a small clearing.

"Go on, go get something to eat."

The dragon unfurled its wings and flew off. Eragon looked around the clearing, content that he had found a place that the dragon could live.

It returned about a half hour later, feathers sticking from its mouth. Eragon watched it swallow down the feathers.

"Now," he said to it. "Let's find you a name."

Well, I'm spent. I was planning to write more, but then I became fascinated by the concept of what would happen if an insect were to understand caculus. Probably very little, but still…

Anyways…I hope you had fun.

Hasta,

The Demon of the Ink


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